Trials
by ninepen
Summary: The Trials are a rite of passage to adulthood in the life of every Asgardian. Loki wasn't worried about his…not much, anyway. He'd worked hard. He was prepared. And no one in the history of Asgard has ever failed the Trials. Perhaps he should have been a little more worried… Sometimes a boy has to try to prove himself a man, with or without anyone else's support.
1. No One in the History of Asgard

_Just a quick note here, a bit more below: This story is in the same continuity as my other stories (most of them - see my profile or ask me if you want more info__). Because in my mind they're all interconnected, stories from the same lives, there are references in it to things from the other stories that you'll recognize if you've read them, but you don't need to have read them to get _this_ story. So here we go..._

_**Trials**_

**Chapter One: No One in the History of Asgard**

"Let's go out to the Starry Sky, Brother."

"So I can watch you get drunk?" Loki asked with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, Thor, that sounds like a delightful evening."

"No, you're going to get drunk _with_ me," Thor said confidently, an arm slung over Loki's shoulder as they left their parents' chambers. "_That_ will be a delightful evening."

"I'm not old enough. You keep 'forgetting.'"

"You're plenty old enough. Eight days until you turn twenty. Who cares about eight days? No one will turn you away, Loki, and _you_ never made an oath to Mother that you wouldn't. Come on, we have to celebrate!" he said, squeezing Loki's shoulder before letting him go so they could trot down the stairs.

"Are you actively _trying_ to make me fail? I can't go out drinking the night before the Trials."

"You aren't going to fail, Loki. No one in the history of Asgard has ever failed the Trials. Least of all _my brother_," Thor said, poking Loki in the chest in time with the last two words as they came to a halt on the landing of Loki's floor.

Loki reached out with well-practiced speed, grabbed Thor's arm, twisted it, spun him around, hooked a leg around Thor's, and laid his brother out on his back.

Thor lay there, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling for several seconds before the groan came.

"Good evening, Jolgeir," Loki said with his best manners to the Einherjar guard standing in the shadows at the end of the corridor.

"Good evening, Prince Loki."

"This floor is made of marble," Thor said, pushing himself up slowly into a sitting position. "Marble is hard. Marble _hurts._"

Loki stuck out his hand. "Worse than a hangover?" he asked as Thor took the offered hand and Loki helped him up.

"In certain places, yes. And at least a hangover means something fun came first."

Loki looked at Thor, now rubbing his backside, with skepticism. He thought his older brother just grew even louder and stupider when he drank heavily, but everyone else seemed to either not notice or not care, for they only loved him all the more when he sloshed mead over his clothing and smashed empty tankards on the floor. Loki tried to smile and laugh and join in as best he could without drinking, but sometimes he really detested those nights out at taverns with Thor. No way was he going to one tonight of all nights. "Well, sorry about that, Brother," Loki finally said as Thor finally finished making sure he hadn't broken anything. "You were reaching out for me. It was a classic attack posture. I thought you were helping me practice."

"I'll help you practice," Thor said with a nod. "Outside. On something softer than marble."

"Don't be a child, Thor, your body has reached its peak durability. You probably won't even bruise from that."

"So has yours. Shall we test that?"

"No, no," Loki said, laughing as he backed up a few steps. "I won't reach peak durability for another eight days." It was a jest, of course. An Aesir's body was considered to have reached full strength at age twenty, but that was merely part of the ritualization of the milestone; nothing magical happened precisely on one's birthday. "And I'm not showing up for my Trials drunk from a tavern or nursing injuries from a night of fighting you."

"Loki, you're no fun. Come on, we have to do _something_ to celebrate. You don't want to go to a tavern, you don't want to spar, what then? It's your Trials, you name it. We'll celebrate however you want. I know! We could go to the bridge. Horse around like when we were still youths."

"I still _am_ a youth, Thor. And celebrations follow successes, not precede them. We'll do something tomorrow night after the feast, all right? Tonight I'm going to bed early. I'm also not showing up for my Trials exhausted from having stayed up all night. So with that…I believe your chambers lie in _that_ direction," Loki said, pointing back up the stairs. If Thor got the idea to follow him into his chambers, Loki might not ever be able to get him to leave.

"Oh, fine, Brother. Live like an old man if you wish," Thor said, reaching out and squeezing Loki's shoulder again. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to. I'll celebrate enough for the both of us."

Loki frowned. Worse than tagging along while Thor drank was _not_ tagging along and having to track down where he'd passed out the night before, because without his moderating influence – or nagging or mothering or clucking or any number of other things Thor called it when he was drunk – his twenty-year-old barely-adult older brother liked to think he could hold his own in a tavern against Aesir decades and centuries older. "Perhaps you should stay in tonight, too. It's going to be a busy day tomorrow."

Thor laughed. "Such a mother hen, Loki! Calm your nerves, Brother. You'll be fine, you have nothing to worry about. You're ready. You could have gone for your Trials the same time I did and you would have passed then, too."

"All right, all right. Go on, then. Have fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't be late. You know I need you to be there."

Thor leaned in closer and wrapped his hand around the back of Loki's neck. "I'll be there. I'll be the loudest voice in the arena, just like you were for me."

Loki gave him a half-smile. "Well, don't embarrass yourself. Or me."

"Never," Thor said with a squeeze to his neck. "Well, at least not on your big day. I make no such promises about tonight. Sleep well, Brother," he said, and after one final squeeze of Loki's neck and Loki's reciprocal squeeze of his arm, Thor turned and galloped down the stairs.

Loki turned, too, toward the door to his chambers, but paused and looked to his left. "Will you be there, Jolgeir?" he asked, trying to make it sound as casual as he could. Loki knew many Einherjar, growing up in particular among those who watched over him and his brothers, but it was only Jolgeir he was close to, going back to an incident from his childhood when Jolgeir had saved him from drowning.

"I wouldn't miss it," Jolgeir said, bringing a quick smile to Loki's face. "And don't worry, Loki. Your brother's correct. No one has ever failed the Trials. Your trainers work hard with you to make sure you're ready by the time you face them."

Loki nodded. He wasn't worried. Well, maybe a little. But everyone had been saying the same thing to him for at least a month now. _"No one in the history of Asgard has ever failed the Trials."_

As it turned out, there was a first time for everything.

/

* * *

_So, I don't know what got into me tonight, but despite insisting to myself and to other folks on this site for months that I would not post anything from this story until it was completed, I just couldn't help myself. (Oh my gosh, I just realized, it's exactly like a moment I wrote for Jane in another story today, ha.) I guess it's because I started writing the second half of the story, which gives me the confidence to assert that yes, it will be finished. (_Memory Casket_ readers, please don't kill me, I promise, this story doesn't take time from that one, this is my "notebook story," that I write when I have some time to write but no access to my computer.) I'm not sure how frequently I'll update this one. I may try to keep it at just this chapter for a while. I currently estimate around 10 or 12 chapters (I'm on Ch. 6 as of June 3), but those of you who know me, that may mean 30. Ha. No, hopefully not._

_I generally try to do something a little different in the writing style in every fanfic I've done. This one is entirely from Loki's POV. Unless I change my mind down the line. I hope you will enjoy it! Consider dropping me a line and letting me know what you think._

_In the next chapter, "What Are Brothers For?"...let the Trials begin!_


	2. What Are Brothers For?

_**Trials**_

**Chapter Two: What are Brothers For?**

The Trials started at sunrise with endurance. Before dawn broke, Loki took the horse that a servant had left for him out to the foothills of the mountains. Clothed in the latest version of his full armor, which he'd grown quite comfortable in after struggling with the growing weight of it in his earlier youth, he placed his feet carefully on the weathered footprints outlined in black on the smooth gray stone slab. The entire slab glowed gold for a moment, registering his presence. When the glowing stopped, Loki started.

Jitters quickly gave way to an easy grin. He liked running, and it was a beautiful day for it, a little cool, but the sun was rising and the sky was a clear, pale blue with a few pink wisps of the cosmos beyond visible in the direction of the observatory. It was peaceful out here, just him and the natural beauty of Asgard – snow-capped mountains at his back, the River Sekin at his right, birds chirping with the dawn. Not far into the run he veered a bit off course to avoid disturbing a doe and her fawn drinking at the river. He didn't push himself, but rather let himself relax and enjoy the experience. The endurance portion of the trials wasn't timed; speed wasn't the point. _"Be in the arena by sunset unless you want to still be fighting at the next sunrise," _Sorkvir had warned him in jest the day before. Loki laughed as he ran up an incline. Even without pushing himself, he was fast; he'd be there by noon.

Loki knew exactly – well, _almost_ exactly – what to expect in his Trials. He'd been to several of them, for other boys he'd trained with, and even a couple of the girls' version, and then of course there was his brother's. The arena had been packed full for that one, and some had spent the night in the stands to ensure they had the best seats, for it was not every day their next king publicly proved himself a warrior. The _very_ best seats, of course, were reserved for the All-Father and his family, and Loki had screamed his throat raw for Thor, who'd particularly thrilled the masses in his strength and battle portions.

Loki was under no illusions that such a crowd would be there for him. He wasn't going to be Asgard's king, no matter what he'd been told as a child, that much had long since been clear. And neither did he have the kind of charisma that Thor did, that somehow made everyone love him seemingly at first glance. But that was all right; Loki was used to it. Thor's birthdays were celebrated across Asgard, while Loki's were celebrated by his family and perhaps a few friends the day after his actual birthday, which Asgard celebrated as Victory Day over the Frost Giants instead. So if thousands showed up in the arena for Thor and dozens – his family, his tutors, his trainers, a few friends, a few curious onlookers (he _was_ still a Prince of Asgard) – showed up for him, that was just fine. Loki had never particularly liked being the center of attention the way Thor did, anyway. He preferred it this way, really.

And for those that came, well, he would entertain them in the strength and battle portions as well. Maybe not as much as Thor, but he'd planned different tactics, and he was better than Thor in endurance and skills.

As he passed alongside a field, a younger boy, a redhead of around ten or eleven, emerged from the tall grain crops swaying in the breeze, caught sight of him, and took off at a sprint to fall in line beside him.

"Are you Prince Loki?" the boy asked.

"I am," Loki said, slowing his stride a bit for the boy who was already beginning to grow breathless.

"Are you going to your Trials?" he asked.

Loki repeated his earlier answer.

"That's so great! I wish I could go. Good luck, Loki!" the boy said, then stopped and bent over, hands resting on his knees, while he caught his breath.

Loki turned backwards and ran in place long enough to thank the boy, then continued on his way. It made him smile. Perhaps there were others out there who would like to come if they were able. Of course most people had to work, and those that lived this far out were unlikely to make the journey into the city just to see the second prince lifting heavy objects and thrusting a sword around in a predetermined pattern. There might be a _few_ entertaining moments, but most of it was pretty dull.

The spires of Asgard, gleaming under the bright sun, slowly grew until they were all he could see, and he entered the city proper. Loki felt invigorated, the air rushing into his lungs as sweet as the best honey, even though it was now the smells of the city he was breathing in. He tried to imagine what he would feel like instead if he'd gone to the Starry Sky with Thor. He ran over an arched cobblestone bridge with a grimace. Loki had been hung over precisely once in his life, the first time and the last time. It was a good thing Thor _had_ sworn that oath to their mother not to drink again until he reached legal age; Thor didn't have enough good sense to stay away from the taverns before something like this, and probably _would_ have gone to his Trials hung over. He rolled his eyes then, realizing that in fact it would have fallen to him to make sure that didn't happen, and a whole lot of fun _that_ would have been. Thor was lots of fun to be with when you agreed to what he wanted, or when you let him talk you into agreeing, or even when he happened to agree with _you_. Not so much when you disagreed and refused to waver. Of course, that didn't happen often.

Now Loki just hoped Thor hadn't gotten into some drinking contest and forgotten what today was. He chided himself for not having come up with a backup plan if in fact Thor didn't make it. Then he chided himself for doubting his brother. He might not be there at the beginning – the beginning was pretty boring – but he'd be there when it mattered. Thor had really only ever let him down once, in the same incident that resulted in Thor's oath not to drink again until he turned twenty.

"Hello, Lindall!" he called out to the bookseller as he entered Central Market.

Lindall turned away from his customer. "Prince Loki! Greetings! I wish I could join you. Strength and fortitude!"

"Thank you!" he called over his shoulder, continuing on. He picked up a fair number of gawkers and well-wishers – the route was designed to take the youth through some of the busiest parts of the city for precisely this reason – though the crowd was less than he'd expected, given the gorgeous weather.

A young woman he didn't know, blond hair all piled elegantly atop her head, put her fist to her silk-clad chest, then blew him a kiss. Loki's eyes went wide and he nearly stumbled before getting off a polite nod. _These Trials should come around more often,_ he thought, trying to commit her face to memory in case he should see her again. She could be a hundred years older than him, but once he turned twenty the difference would begin to matter less and less.

"Prince Loki! Will you prove yourself a warrior today?"

Loki's eyes sought out the familiar voice and found the merchant Drosbo Aldarson, who'd been satisfying Loki's sweet tooth since early childhood and to whom Loki now sometimes took Baldur. "I will, Drosbo!" he called.

"I would like to see you do it, but my son is an idiot and my daughter isn't feeling well, she's going to make me a grandfather."

Loki almost stopped, and while it was technically allowed, he preferred not to. Instead he threaded his way through the other merchants and, awkwardly running in place, threw his arms around Drosbo. "Congratulations! To you and all your family."

"Thank you, Loki. And free fruit sticks to you and your brothers once you've passed your Trials."

"Thanks, Drosbo," he said, and set off on his run again.

He felt like he could run for a year – a decade, he thought, after passing the Healing Room and two pretty young trainees who waved and called out their fond wishes. He might not measure up to Thor in battle or popularity, but he still had plenty of support from his fellow Asgardians. It made his armor weigh nothing, as he supposed this run through the center of Asgard as he neared his destination was intended to. Once – so the trainers said – the Trials had been less a celebration than something simply grueling and arduous. Loki suspected they just liked for all the youth to think they had it so easy and their trainers had had it so rough. Now showmanship and entertainment were part of it as well, though the tasks were no less demanding.

The arena came into view, and as much as Loki wanted to race forward with a burst of extra speed, he forced himself to keep his pace steady. The run wouldn't be over when he entered the arena.

With a wave to the little girl who was panting from running at his heels for the last minute or so, Loki at last broke off from the boulevard he was on and ran down the gravel path that followed the short eastern edge of the oval-shaped arena. He soon rounded the bend and passed under the engraved arched entrance that Thor had run through before him, and every male Asgardian for thousands of years, including even his own father. The tunnel was dark, and the end of it so bright that he couldn't see beyond it. He already knew which direction to look in to see his family when he emerged, though. He squinted against the sun, eyes trained in the proper direction, but he couldn't find them. His eyes instead darted all over the north side of the stands, which were, to his great shock, packed with spectators from end to end.

Staring in astonishment, Loki realized a few seconds later that he'd slowed so much he'd almost come to a complete halt. His legs propelled him forward again, and then he heard shouting; the crowd – who had perhaps confused which prince was demonstrating his skills today, he couldn't help wondering – had caught sight of him. He ran across the grounds and watched, still stunned, as they stood and cheered him on. He was almost to the other side when he recovered enough to actually search for his family; he hadn't expected it to be difficult. If he ignored the rest of the crowd, though, he did still know where to look, in the center, about half-way up, where the special entrance was. He found Thor first, standing on his seat, hands cupped around his mouth, and though Loki couldn't hear him over the noise of the arena, he had no doubt that his brother was yelling for him more loudly than anyone else there, just as he'd said. Then there was Mother, standing next to him, holding Baldur up so he could see, and Baldur and Mother were both shouting as well. Father wasn't there. Loki was disappointed, but it was early, and unless something truly urgent was going on, he was certain he would be there before the end. They'd talked about it at dinner last night.

Loki reached the stands and now came the only real challenge of this portion of the Trials – after running for hours, he had to run up the stairs on the far left, down the center-left ones, up the center-right ones, and back down the far right ones, out to the center of the grounds. The stairs were steep, and the "running" verged on jumping like a mountain deer. When he reached the center-left stairs he could pick out Thor's voice for the first time: _"Go Loki! Faster! You can do it! Keep going, Brother!"_ Loki smiled and pushed himself harder, his breathing finally growing labored. He didn't dare look up from the stairs, though; falling flat on his face and breaking his nose would hardly be a good start to his Trials.

He hit the bottom and started his way back up, then around and back down again, and finally put on the burst of speed he'd been holding back this whole time to race out to the grounds and come to a halt atop a second smooth flat stone that glowed gold with his arrival.

Sorkvir stood before him, and spoke, the arena's sound amplification system projecting his voice into the stands. "This concludes the first portion of the Trials for Prince Loki Odinson. Prince Loki, you have passed. With the successful completion of your endurance trial, you have begun to prove yourself a warrior today before your realm. How far will you run to greet an enemy who threatens this shining realm?"

"From one end of Asgard to the other and back again," Loki said solemnly. In reality, he would probably just run as far as the stables and take a horse, but this was less about reality than ceremony.

Sorkvir nodded. "Very well. The skills portion will commence in thirty minutes."

Loki nodded back, and with that he was free for the next half hour. One of the assistant trainers was waiting at the bottom of the stands with a canister of water, which he gratefully took, then climbed back up the stairs, greeting people and grasping extended arms along the way.

He reached the level of his family's seating and suddenly there was Thor at the edge of the row, throwing his arms around him. "Did you hear me, Brother? I told you I'd be the loudest."

"I heard you," Loki said with a nod as he hugged Thor back, stepping lightly in place to keep his muscles warm and limber. "I think Jotunheim heard you."

"Good. Let it be a warning to them. Soon there will be _two_ Odinson warriors for them to worry about. Come on," Thor said, dropping one arm back to his side and swinging the other up around Loki's neck. "Mother can hardly keep hold of Baldur he's so excited to see you."

Loki grinned and let Thor pull him through the throng, and into the less crowded and more comfortable area where his family sat.

"You didn't see me, Loki! I was yelling for you," Baldur said as soon as Loki cleared the crowd. His fair-haired younger brother, approaching five years old, stood atop a red-cushioned seat and was almost pouting.

"I saw you, and I heard you cheering me on. I don't know if I could have finished without you. I just couldn't look over at you because the stairs are very steep and I had to be careful not to fall."

"I helped?" Baldur asked, perking up immediately.

"Of course you did. Thank you."

"You're welcome!" Baldur exclaimed, sticking his arms out for Loki to pick him up.

Loki did so, then stepped over to his mother, who embraced both of them at once. She had tears in her eyes; she seemed to be doing that a lot lately. He hadn't done anything _that_ exciting, not yet anyway. It was a long run, but it was just a run. "You're off to a wonderful start, Loki, I'm so proud of you." She wrapped a hand around his face and pulled him close enough to her that he felt her breath over his ear. "There's been a little flare-up between Alfheim and Nidavellir," she whispered. "Your father is meeting with his advisors, but he'll be here."

"I understand," he said back to her.

"What did Mother say, Loki?" Baldur asked.

"She wished me good luck. Now, are you paying close attention, Little Brother? This is going to be you in sixteen years, you know."

Baldur shook his head, eyes wide. "I can't run from one end of Asgard to the other. I'll get too tired."

"Don't worry," Loki said with a laugh. "You have plenty of time to get big and strong enough to do it."

Baldur started pulling at the leather strap over Loki's right shoulder, and Loki turned back to Thor, lowering his voice. "I can't believe all these people showed up. And even for the first part. I mean, where did they all come from? I've been looking around, and I don't even know most of them."

"Well…"

"What?" Loki asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I _might_ have happened to mention that you had your Trials today when I was at the Starry Sky last night. And when I was at the Sword and Shield after that. And the Golden Goblet after that. And…well, you get the picture. I think I went to them all."

Loki stared. "You went to _every tavern in Asgard_? I don't think that's even possible. Not in one night."

"No, not quite all in one night. The rooster was crowing at The Rooster by the time I got there. There were a few people still there, though, and I told them your Trials were today."

"Thor…," Loki began, what his brother was saying slow to sink in, "are you telling me _you_ did all this? You got all these people here?"

"A few of them, anyway," Thor answered with a grin.

"You…I don't know what to say. I…thank you, Brother. I never expected it. It was amazing when I came in and saw everyone, like I must be dreaming it."

"It was nothing. You've worked hard, and you deserve this. I knew they'd be in for a good show if they came out to see you."

Loki shook his head, and ignored Baldur trying to get his attention again. "It's not nothing. I appreciate it, Thor, really. You didn't have to do that."

"What are brothers for?" Thor said, reaching around with one hand to squeeze Loki's damp neck above his collar, and ruffling Baldur's hair with the other.

Loki set Baldur back on the cushion and got to work fixing the strap his little brother had managed to unbuckle. "I don't know," he said. "But you're definitely off the hook for getting me a birthday present."

"I got you a birthday present!" Baldur said, pulling on Loki's sleeve.

"So did I. But you already knew that. So I'll keep it in mind for next year. You better get back down there now, Loki. And don't let all these people watching your every move make you nervous."

Loki stuck his tongue out at Thor before remembering that all these people were in fact watching his every move, and perhaps he should finally listen to Mother and stop sticking his tongue out at Thor now that he was about to turn twenty. It wasn't exactly adult-like, much less warrior-like. But Thor so often _deserved_ it.

"Loki," his mother said in a chiding tone, with a deliberate glance at Baldur.

Loki looked down at Baldur, and saw he was sticking his tongue out at Thor. He bent down to whisper in Baldur's ear. "Only stick your tongue out at Thor when Mother's not looking," he said, then gave Baldur a wink. "All right, I do need to get back down to the grounds. But I'll come up again if I can."

Mother took his hand and squeezed it; Loki knew she would prefer to kiss his forehead or cheek, but was grateful she didn't in front of so many onlookers. He gave Baldur a hug and offered an arm to Thor who instead pulled him into a hug, too. They pulled apart and their eyes met, strong and steady, and it was different. They would still be brothers, they would still be best friends, but now soon they would both be adults as well, fellow warriors who would fight back to back for stakes higher than in mere games. Their lives would be full of adventures – for if no adventures found them, Thor would find the adventures – that they'd once only read about in children's books, and they would undertake them together. Loki couldn't be prouder to call Thor his brother in that moment, and he hoped Thor would be able to say the same of him.

"One down, three to go," he said, then picked his way back out to the stairs and down again.

/

* * *

/

The skills portion was a breeze, and quite dull. Loki began with the sword and a series of blocking moves so basic he'd learned them when he was nine and could have done them blindfolded and half asleep. His opponent – there only to provide the other half of the routine – was his first trainer, Ossur, the man who'd taught him and Thor these very moves. He'd actually requested to do it blindfolded, but was denied on the grounds that "It isn't done that way, Loki." He'd argued, because "It isn't done that way, Loki" hardly seemed like a rational reason for the refusal, but it wasn't like it was the first time he'd heard it, and, as usual, it didn't get him anywhere.

He worked his way through other weapons – including his body itself – and other trainers and the required moves, transitioning from defensive to offensive and back again time after time. As he spun his staff to block a blow, he stole a quick glance up at the spectators. Father still wasn't there, and – though perhaps he was only imagining it, it wasn't like he'd taken the time to inspect their faces individually – he thought the crowd looked bored. Well, it _was_ boring. Even when Thor had done this part, it had gotten boring. Except during this exact part, when Thor had slammed his staff into the trainer's with such force the trainer's staff snapped clean in two. Loki wasn't going to be snapping anyone's weapon in two, but he _knew_ he was going to please the crowd in the next segment.

About an hour later, when his arms would have been tiring even a month ago, Loki took up a sword again, this time working through a much more complex series of maneuvers, though at their core they were just combinations and elaborations of the same moves he'd begun with. It was simple, and by this point he'd practiced it so many times he could do it flawlessly without conscious thought.

He ended, per the standard routine, with the blunted tip of his sword at First Swordmaster Almod's exposed throat, and the audience applauded. Loki glanced up; Thor was shouting with his hands cupped around his mouth again, and Baldur was perched on his shoulders, doing the same. Loki smiled up at them and walked over to Sorkvir to exchange the next ceremonial statements, in which he affirmed his commitment to fight for Asgard with whatever weapon was available, even if it were the last stone from the rubble of the last building in the realm. Loki struggled to maintain a serious face during that one. It wasn't like he'd ever had any stone-throwing training, but he figured, sure, if it came to that, he could lob one hard at the enemy's forehead, though he thought he'd probably be able to come up with something a little more effective than that. On the other hand, the last Asgardian left in the realm…all alone? He shivered at the horrible thought. What would there be worth fighting for at _that_ point? Principle? Loki wasn't sure his principles were quite that strong. Such conjecture was pointless, anyway – if only one person was left alive in all of Asgard, it would be Father, or maybe Thor. It wouldn't be _him_. Regardless, it was all just for ceremony anyway, and it was merely another way of asking, "Do you love Asgard enough to fight for it, even when the odds seem insurmountable?" And of course, Loki did. Without question. Without hesitation.

And now he had another half-hour, so he made his way back up through the stands. Vendors were selling snacks; there normally weren't enough people at the Trials to justify that, Loki had only seen it before at Thor's. Thor and Baldur were mimicking a child's version of a swordfight with little wooden sticks that had once held a snack of some sort. Honey-roasted chicken fillets, it turned out, as Mother reached over and held out two to him over words of praise.

"Thank you, Mother," Loki said, taking a big bite out of one of them.

"Eat slowly."

"I will."

"And there's water when you're done."

"There's water down there, too," Loki said after quickly swallowing.

"Yes, but _I_ brought this water for you."

"And it's far superior water, of course."

Frigga swatted at his arm; Loki laughed.

"I win!" Baldur shouted, and Loki looked over to see his wooden stick poking Thor in the chest and Thor's head lolling back, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Good job, Baldur. It's not easy to defeat Thor. Maybe tonight we can take him on again together."

"Maybe Baldur and I will take _you_ on together," a miraculously recovered Thor said. "After all, _you'll_ be Asgard's newest warrior. We can't let you become too arrogant."

"I accept your challenge," Loki said with a grin. "Two more trials first." The four individual trials became successively more difficult, but Loki's confidence was soaring, and he wasn't worried.

/

* * *

_Oh, my goodness, doesn't everyone seem so happy, so harmonious, isn't everything just perfect? (Don't go telling poor Loki he's in a fanfic, thus ruining his good mood.) ;-) And of course, if you peer underneath the cushions, nothing's quite as 100% perfect as it seems, anyway._

_In Ch. 3 "All for Show," Loki tries to entertain the audience, and Loki and ninepen both get to try out a bit of deception, which was great fun for both of us._


	3. All for Show

**Trials**

**Chapter Three: All for Show**

Loki kicked, pulled, pushed, lifted, punched, resisted, swung his way through the strength demonstration. He was beginning to feel it, particularly in his arms – no matter how hard he trained, his upper body strength was never quite what he wished it was. But feeling it was good, it meant his body was working hard, and his body was _supposed_ to be working hard. Besides, he was almost done, well into the final part of this segment, for which he'd designed the tests himself to better demonstrate his own strengths, and frankly, to entertain the audience. And now that the audience was much larger than he'd anticipated, he was grateful for the time and creativity he'd put into it.

For his next-to-last demonstration, he went over to the wagon that had been brought onto the field during the last break, pulled each of its four wheels from the axle, snapped off all the spokes, then swung two over his right shoulder and two over his left, holding his posture rigidly straight to keep them in place there. He carried them over to a pre-determined spot, where he set the heavy wheels down in front of him. Then, one by one, he lifted them again, hurling them across the field to land so that they caught just so around a man-sized post, where they rotated in a mad spiral down to the ground. The crowd erupted in applause, and Loki turned to them, unable to hold back his grin. He'd been perfecting this for nearly half a year, and the audience's approval gave him a gratifying rush.

His eyes sought out Thor, and found him screaming from his seat; Mother's head was thrown back in laughter as she clapped. But this time Loki barely noticed them, for between them at last sat Father, clapping and smiling. Loki beamed.

He forced his gaze away a moment later, for he wasn't finished yet. The wheel stunt was almost comical, if anyone paused to think too much about it – he hoped they didn't – because really, he doubted he'd ever need to subdue an enemy by hurling a wagon wheel at him, much less by hurling it such that it encircled the enemy's body. The whole stunt was actually far less about strength than about accuracy in aim and in the precise application of strength, but that worked in Loki's favor, because raw physical strength was not _his_ strength. Loki knew he couldn't compete with Thor in that regard, so his goal was to distinguish himself by incorporating physical strength into areas where his own talents lay.

Besides, he had to be careful how much strength he exerted now. He had to save some of it for this last feat.

Two of his old trainers – his favorite, Ossur, and Elaugur – carried a log onto the field, and, with audible grunts, set it down in front of him. Two trainers were not strictly speaking necessary, not when they were as strong as Ossur and Elaugur; though the log was thick and very heavy, this part was just for show. Loki stretched, rolled his neck around, bounced lightly a few times to bend and straighten his knees. After a final flexing of his fingers, he bent at the knee and worked his arms around the log. He grunted and groaned, dug his heels in, gritted his teeth, furrowed his brow, but the log never made it more than an inch or perhaps two off the ground. The audience cheered its encouragement to the young prince, so he straightened for just a moment, nodded, and went at it again. The log went no higher than before, and Loki let it drop back to the ground and stood up, panting.

The crowd's encouraging applause and shouts quickly faded. Loki bowed his head in shame, and the crowd grew even quieter. Now only a few individual shouts of encouragement – "You can do it!" "Try again!" "Don't give up now!" – reached his ears, along with a few whistles and claps. Then one voice boomed out clearly over the rest.

"I'll help you, Brother!"

Loki braved a glance up in Thor's direction, in time to see Father losing an awkward grip on Thor's arm, as his brother rose and turned toward the stairs. Odin looked aghast, his own eyes cast downward, and Loki felt a sharp flare of pain over it. Mother was staring at him slack-jawed, though when he caught her eye she tried to force a smile, and Baldur had a good portion of his fist in his mouth. With Thor's words, the crowd had gone deathly silent; "help" was not under any circumstances allowed at the Trials. Getting through them on your own was the whole point. Loki hurriedly looked back down at the log and bent to make another attempt before Thor could reach him. He fared a little better, the log rising a little higher, but he'd not managed to get it as high as his knees when he dropped it again.

He kept his head down and soon Thor was beside him, even nudging him out of the way. "I've got this, Loki," he said, the field's sound projection making the words easily audible to the assembled spectators.

Loki watched in silence as Thor bent at the knees just as he had, got his arms into position, and with a bit of a grunt of his own, lifted it, straightening his knees as he went, until he was completely upright, the log at shoulder height. His brother angled his neck around to him, flashed a brilliant grin, and raised his eyebrows. He was probably the only one in the entire arena with a smile on his face.

Until Loki joined him. "Thank you, Brother," he said, patting Thor on the shoulder. Then he went behind Thor, got into a squatting position, ducked underneath him, wrapped his hands around Thor's knees and pressed them in toward his chest to help keep his brother balanced. Next, careful to keep his back straight, he began pressing upward. The move was a practiced one by now, but still, it felt like he was lifting an entire building on his shoulders, and his legs strained and burned in protest. Much more weight and his knees might have buckled, but he rose steadily and before long was fully upright, Thor on his shoulders holding the log. He gave Thor's right knee a squeeze, and in response Thor lifted the log up above his head. Thor had insisted on that part, actually, but Loki didn't mind letting him have an extra moment of glory.

The crowd was clearly stunned, and the applause returned slowly at first, but before long the arena was as loud as it had ever been today, and maybe, Loki thought, even as loud as it had ever been for Thor's Trials. And really, this had just been intended as a bit of fun for his family, but the performance had clearly enraptured the whole audience. Loki basked in it as he never thought he would. Thor loved being at the center of such spectacle, and Loki finally understood why, in that moment of triumph that everyone – even his own parents – had thought a failure.

The cheering went on and on – Mother was on her feet, Baldur was jumping up and down on his seat, and even Father was coming to his feet. Loki felt like he could have stood there grinning back up at everyone forever, but a minute press of both of Thor's heels into his chest reminded him that Thor was the one holding the log up over his head, and strong as his older brother was, even he couldn't keep that up forever. Loki gave his left knee a squeeze to let him know he was ready, and Thor dropped the log to the ground in front of them. Loki squatted down, Thor hopped off, and that was the end of the strength trial. He gave another over-the-top pledge and was declared to have passed. Before he could even get turned all the way back around to Thor, his brother was nearly knocking him over with a hug.

"That was _brilliant_, Loki, just _brilliant._ You were amazing."

"You were fairly amazing yourself, Brother," Loki said with a laugh, hugging Thor back just as hard.

"We'll practice that some more tonight with the ladies when we celebrate. They'll love it."

"Ladies love being lifted up like logs above men's heads?" Loki asked, giving Thor a skeptical look.

Thor threw his head back and laughed. "That too, yes, we should try it! But I meant carrying them on our shoulders. It'll make a great game."

The brothers soon parted ways. Loki had an hour's break this time, and he took a canister of water with him up into the stands, hoping to greet a few others this time before working his way over to his family. He spotted his old friend Muli, whose Trials would take place in three months. They shared a few laughs and Loki couldn't deny how great it felt to hear how amazed Muli had been, how he was going to have to put more thought into what he planned for his own Trials after seeing how creative Loki had been. He spoke to a few others, searching harder and harder for Jolgeir as he went.

"Prince Loki!"

Loki's head whipped around and his grin grew wider – it was Jolgeir, sitting five rows higher and to the right from where he was now. He excused himself from one of his old cosmology tutors and hurried over to Jolgeir.

"Well done, my prince," Jolgeir said, inclining his head deeply.

"Thank you, Jolgeir. I hardly recognized you, you know. I think I'd forgotten that you have things to wear other than your official armor." He wore a dark green tunic liberally covered in crisscrossing brown leather – and he was far from the only person in green here today.

"Not many, but yes," he said with a smile. "So does Thidrek."

"Thidrek!" Loki said, eyes jumping to the man sitting on Jolgeir's other side. He hadn't known Thidrek was coming, too, hadn't even noticed him sitting right there, dressed as anyone else, with a green-trimmed vest. "Thank you for coming."

"How could I miss it?" Thidrek asked. "It's an important day, my prince. You're putting me out of job."

Loki laughed. "You have a few more days to find a new one. Will you be looking after Baldur, like Jolgeir?"

"Hergils hasn't decided. But no matter, the palace always needs its Einherjar."

"We're all here, Loki," Jolgeir said. "All of us who've watched over you over the years. Either in the stands or on duty. Can you spot them?"

Loki instantly started looking around, and soon found five Einherjar on duty in addition to the four sitting around his family. It turned out there was a sixth, standing in the shadow of a statue in the corner of the stands and blending into it so well Loki missed him. He was a little disappointed, but Jolgeir and Thidrek seemed pleased that he'd found five. The Einherjar had trained long and hard to earn their positions; none of them were fresh from their Trials.

When he finally approached his family's seats, only his father was there, which made him a little nervous. Thor he found easily, a few rows away laughing with some of the boys – _men_, he supposed he should think of it now – that his brother went out to the taverns with. Suddenly Thor grabbed one of them and flipped him horizontal and lifted him up like the log, but unlike the log this was a _person_ and not quite so easily and steadily grasped; he started to tumble down and the others grabbed his dangling limbs and pushed him back up. Loki shook his head. He supposed this was what his entire night would look like. He smiled anyway. Thor would be Thor, but this would be _his_ night, and he would have fun regardless, maybe even give in and have a drink or two with the others. Maybe even grab Thor and lift _him_ up like that.

"Father," Loki said with a formal nod when he reached him.

Odin stood and placed his hands on Loki's shoulders. He was dressed formally, in polished gold armor and flowing red cape. Gungnir, though, was nowhere in sight. "You're doing well, Loki."

"Thank you," he replied, wishing he could throw his arms around Father as he did Thor and Baldur and Mother, but it seemed there was always something awkward between them, something that only rarely permitted such displays of affection, and less and less as he'd grown older. "Mother told me you had other business. I'm glad you could be here."

"I came as quickly as I could. And Baldur filled me in on everything I'd missed. You've really impressed him. He says you're the fastest and strongest warrior Asgard has ever seen," Father said, patting his right shoulder and letting him go.

"He's easy to impress," Loki said with a crooked grin. "Where is he, and Mother?"

"She took him to the bathroom. They'll be back soon."

Loki nodded and smiled awkwardly.

"Are you prepared for the battle trial?"

"I am," he said, his smile growing more natural.

"I was concerned for a few seconds there," Odin said, his piercing gaze falling hard on Loki.

"Sorry, Father," he said sheepishly.

"Don't be. It was very clever. And brothers supporting each other…that is as it should be."

Loki nodded, smile growing again. His cheek muscles were actually starting to ache from so many big smiles. His break time was running low again, so he excused himself with a bow because they were in public, and at his father's nod he hurried back down toward the grounds.

/

* * *

/

Loki took his position back on the field. This was it. Three down, one to go. He was facing Tyr now. Tyr was a hero of the Vanir-Aesir war and the more recent Ice War. Now he was Odin's second-in-command over Asgard's warriors, as well as the chief trainer for boys from around eighteen years of age to twenty. An exceptional few he took under his wing for further formal training. Thor trained with him four days a week now. Loki knew he was no Thor when it came to fighting, but with a good showing here today, he hoped to join his brother in continuing his training with Tyr.

He gripped his sword – too tightly, he realized, and relaxed his grip a bit – and waited for the signal to start. He was not required to use a sword; he had the option to request a different weapon if he so chose. He'd inquired about throwing axes, though, just for something different, and been turned down, so the sword it was. These were slightly blunted – a fully grown adult would receive no worse than a shallow cut, a child could be killed – so Loki still stood some risk of injury. But while Loki might on rare occasion make a mistake and fail to pull his blows or to properly control his weapon's movements against a sparring partner, Tyr controlled his sword like an extension of his own body. The actual risk of injury was extremely low.

Thor had used a sword. Or to be more accurate, Thor had used _two_ swords. Loki had practiced with him while he was preparing for _his_ Trials, and knew he couldn't manage two swords well enough to do the same. He wouldn't have wanted to anyway – wielding two swords was a means of showcasing Thor's particular skills. Loki had to do something different. But it would have been nice to be _able_ to replicate what Thor had done.

Sorkvir approached and made sure both Loki and Tyr were in their proper starting positions. "Show me what you've learned, Loki," Tyr said, a glint in his eye that was the closest he came to smiling when he held a weapon in his hand.

Loki nodded and fought his own smile in response – at least one corner of his mouth failed to obey.

Sorkvir stepped on a platform a few feet away, from which he would closely observe the battle. "You may begin," he said, the field's sound amplification system now active again and projecting his voice up into the stands.

Loki went into motion immediately. He was light on his feet, quick, agile, with a good eye for detail, and as a result highly responsive to anything his opponents did to signal their next move – eyes suggesting directional intent, feet warning of repositioning, hands and sword hinting of strategy, other small movements implying imminent attack. This would be one of _his_ strengths. He wanted the ability to move, and not just around flat open ground, so during the last break, a series of structures he'd designed and built himself with Thor's help – ramps and walls and stairs – had been positioned on the field to his specifications. Today Tyr was seeing them for the first time, and even Thor did not know precisely how he planned to use any of them. He couldn't give the best show if he revealed all his secrets.

That Tyr had not known about these additions to the field wouldn't matter, in a real battle. Tyr was the realm's greatest warrior next to Odin himself, and while Loki would continue to train and improve, for now and the foreseeable future, Tyr could still beat him easily if that were his real goal.

That was not his goal. His goal was to push Loki hard for one hour – far longer than any real one-on-one sword battle would typically last, even among the hardy, dense-bodied Aesir – after which point he would offer a truce and declare Loki had passed, assuming Loki was indeed able to demonstrate what he'd learned. Youths were not permitted to win on the training field or in this trial out of good graces or politeness or some such foolish thing – victories among the Aesir must be earned. Deserved. To be granted a truce was a sufficient sign of respect for the losing party.

Tyr made the first strike, but it was a probing thrust, more like swatting at a fly than trying to strike down an enemy. Full of adrenaline and excitement, Loki overbalanced on his parry and Tyr shifted back and swung his blade around and sliced right through Loki's tunic and shallowly into his upper arm. Stunned, he blinked rapidly and looked up at Tyr, who was giving him a look he knew well, one that said _settle down._ Loki exhaled, relaxed back into his close guard stance, and gave a single nod.

Things went better from there on out. Tyr continued to get the occasional small hit on him, just enough for him to feel the surprise of it and make him angry at himself for the slip-up, but he took each stinging cut as motivation to do better. While every boy may dream of getting through the battle trial without a single nick from Tyr, no one had done it yet, not even Thor.

Every boy also dreamed of getting a hit on Tyr, and this _had _happened, though it was rare. Thor had gotten two on him, which was entirely unheard of. Though Loki had never said as much to Thor or anyone else, he wanted more. It began with the ropes he'd installed underneath the platform in the middle of the field, from which Sorkvir stood watch over the battle. The platform itself was not out of bounds, so when the opportunity arose, Loki maneuvered the fight up onto it. He took up a defensive position, and when Tyr next brought his sword around in a cut, Loki dropped over the edge of it to the ground. Tyr followed him, but by that time Loki had pulled down one of the ropes tucked under a horizontal wooden support beam of the platform, and at the first glimpse of Tyr's boots coming down Loki pushed off a pole, swung around, and came at Tyr from the side, getting in a quick hit on his shoulder before Tyr spun around and knocked him off the rope and onto his back.

Now sprawled on the grass on his rear end, Loki had no time to dwell on his achievement. Tyr was coming at him again; Loki looked left and rolled right and narrowly avoided an answering hit. From his roll he transitioned smoothly to sitting and then to standing, and though he was out of breath now, he was again steady and calm and the battle continued.

He tried to draw Tyr into a few other surprises, but Tyr didn't fall for them. Loki again had no time to dwell on it, and as the minutes passed by it became more and more difficult to try to take any action that was _proactive_ rather than merely _reactive._

Loki glanced at the glowing orange numbers on the platform's edge: one minute, four seconds. It was time. It wasn't going to be easy. He'd attempted this after an hour of mock fighting, by himself, but never after an hour of such intensity, not after an hour of fighting Tyr, who had indeed pushed him hard, even harder than he'd expected. He _had_, thankfully, practiced doing it with divided concentration, and that was what saved him here. His left hand released the sword. With both eyes still on Tyr and letting tension in his body and other minor muscle movements suggest an impending strike, Loki began focusing on the energy in the particles around him, concentrating them together, manipulating their shape and composition and resonance until they were only the tiniest bit off from where he needed them. He clutched at them with his free left hand – Tyr narrowed his eyes, no doubt suspicious Loki was planning something, and took advantage of what he must have realized was a slight distraction on Loki's part to thrust the tip of his blade in toward Loki's left shoulder. Loki made a quick fade, leaping back about half a foot; he thought Tyr's sword might have made a small cut on the leather he wore over his tunic, but it didn't reach his skin. He followed it off with a fairly cautious advance and thrust; Tyr backed off but then came at him again, not giving him anything for free even in these final seconds. Loki began another parry, but at the same time he gave the particles a final twist, closed his eyes tightly, and released them.

Even behind his eyelids he could see the explosion of light. The instant the particles had dissipated, Loki went on the attack against a temporarily blinded Tyr. He forced Tyr's sword away from his center and struck him hard in the ribs with his elbow. Blinking heavily, Tyr started pulling his sword across and in against his own chest, out of a classic inside defensive position to one that was decidedly less classic, from the horizontal to the vertical, tip pointed up, but before he could get there Loki had swung back around and the tip of his sword was pressed against Tyr's chest. In a real battle, Loki would have just run him through.

Panting heavily, Loki held his position, waiting for the announcement, his grin threatening to split his face in two. He'd _beaten_ Tyr. Not just survived him, not just put a hit on him, _beaten_ him. It had never happened in the history of the Trials.

Tyr was looking down at him, maybe with a bit of anger, Loki wasn't sure. He became aware of the crowd behind him, and the smattering of applause – most people were probably still too stunned by his victory to react. He started to turn toward them.

"Fail."

Loki stopped turning, the crowd now to his left, Sorkvir in front of him, and Tyr, who'd spoken, to his right. Loki looked up at Sorkvir, then over to Tyr, whose head was angled down; his words had not been carried to the stands. "What?" He had to have misheard.

"You have failed, Loki."

Shocked and still breathing heavily from the fight, Loki turned back to fully face Tyr. "What do you mean? I did everything I should have. You didn't get so many hits on me. I-"

"You broke the rules."

"I _didn't_ break any rules," Loki said, his voice beginning to rise.

"Do you deny that you caused a light to blind me?"

Loki's jaw dropped open for a moment. _This can't be happening._ "No," he finally said.

"This is a violation of the rules. Therefore you have failed."

Loki watched as Tyr looked up and over to Sorkvir and gave a slight shake of his head. Loki followed his gaze, eyes growing round in horror, head shaking as he silently begged Sorkvir not to say what Tyr was telling him to.

Sorkvir looked from Tyr, to Loki, to the ground before him, then lifted his head. "Prince Loki Odinson," he began, his shoulders a bit hunched, his voice projecting into the stands, "you have failed the battle trial."

Loki felt his face going painfully taut. The arena was completely silent. His own breathing, hitching harshly and unnaturally loudly in his chest, was the only sound.

"Therefore, I regret that I must announce…that you have failed your Trials."

/

* * *

_The End._

_Ha. No. I wouldn't do that to you._

_Special thanks on this chapter to "CreativeReading" and "names are hard guys" who were generous and helpful in tossing around ideas with me about how this match would go, specifically the end of it!_

_Alternate title for this chapter: "The One in Which Loki Finds Out He's in a Fanfic." Ha. Poor guy. You only hurt the ones you love, Loki, really, believe me._


	4. Audience

_**Trials**_

**Chapter Four: Audience**

Loki's eyes drifted slowly down to the trampled ground, willing it to open up and swallow him whole. This was all a bad dream. A terrible, awful, horrible dream. Any minute now, he would wake up and it would be time to go get into position to begin the endurance segment. Sorkvir would be announcing his triumph in each trial, and he would race up the stairs to the platform to take his final oath and the crowd would clap and shout their enthusiasm and Mother and Father would… _Father_, Loki thought, and even though a second earlier he wouldn't have believed his horror and humiliation could be any worse, now it was. Despite his desire to hide his face from the realm, he couldn't stop himself from lifting his head and turning it toward his family. Father was looking down; Loki could almost see the waves of shame rolling off him. Thor was looking at him, ducking himself down as though attempting to hide. Mother was looking right at him, lips parted as though to speak, and Baldur was beside her, whispering in her ear, though she did not seem to hear. Father was as still as could be.

Tyr passed by him, back toward the arch that led to the equipment rooms. He was leaving. It was over. Sorkvir was climbing down from the platform. _It can't end like this,_ Loki thought, desperation growing inside him. _It just can't!_ Sword still in hand, he followed Tyr, picking up his pace to a jog to catch up with him just under the stone arch. Sorkvir hurried over also, and Ossur and Elaugur were there waiting.

"Tyr, wait. How did I break the rules?"

"You used magic. Trickery. This is not the way of an Asgardian warrior."

"But I fought you well. And all I did was make a little light. If I could defeat an enemy that way, why wouldn't I?"

"You are an Aesir, Loki. You fight with strength. With courage. With skill. With weapons. _Not_ with tricks."

"But I'm also supposed to show something of myself here, what I can-"

"Loki, stop. My word is final. What you did out there was not what you were taught. You have failed. And I am personally disappointed in you."

Loki pushed past the sting of those words. "But I-"

"Don't make things worse," Sorkvir said, putting a hand on Loki's shoulder and squeezing hard enough that he could feel it through the thick leather there, making the cut underneath sting. "Go home, Loki. We'll have to discuss how to handle this. No one has ever failed the Trials before."

They started to leave. Ossur, his first trainer, who'd meant so much to him as a boy on the cusp of his youth because he treated him the same as Thor even though at nine years old he technically shouldn't have begun his training as a warrior yet, lingered there under the arch. "I'm sorry, Loki. You were doing really well. I was proud of you." Ossur gave his arm a quick squeeze and left, too.

And Loki was all alone.

/

* * *

/

He didn't stay that way for long. The light tapping of the low heels favored by his mother against the ancient worn stone filled him with a sense of dread. He looked behind him, and thought about fleeing. His mother, the arena, the city, the entire realm. But that was just a childish fantasy. He was Loki Odinson, he had just defeated the great Tyr, and he _did not run_.

She rounded the corner then, and while he didn't run, he couldn't quite bring himself to look her in the eye, either. She stopped right in front of him; he could see the emerald green silk of her shoes peeking out beneath her matching gown.

"Oh, Loki," she breathed out quietly on a sigh.

He looked up then, and saw her sad smile for just an instant before she wrapped her arms around him and drew him in close, heedless of how he dampened her gown with sweat and perhaps even a few drops of blood. He didn't precisely return the embrace, but now matching her height, he merely rested his cheek against her shoulder. Her hand came up and stroked his wet black hair.

They stood there for a long time in complete silence, even Mother's hand on his head going still. He could have stood there enveloped in the softness and warmth and love and strength of her arms for all eternity, and perhaps a few years ago he would have tried to, but he was a man now, or would be in a few days. A man, but not a warrior…if it was possible for an Aesir to be one and not the other in the first place.

He extricated himself from her embrace and took a step back. "I suppose we should go," he said, fighting to keep his voice natural.

"I suppose so," she said with a nod.

They turned to leave. Loki saw her arm coming up to reach around his shoulders and angled his next step a little further from her side; Frigga's arm went smoothly back to her side.

"Have dinner with me?" she asked as they mounted horses for the return to the palace.

The servants kept their eyes lowered and Loki studiously avoided looking at them. They were both men, and _they_, these servants who cared for the family's horses, had both qualified as warriors. Loki, their prince, had not. The first rumblings of anger and resentment began to simmer in his belly.

"Loki? Dinner?" Mother prompted.

"Sorry, Mother. I…" _Dinner…_ He closed his eyes for a moment, his riding posture remaining perfect. _The feast._ A feast had been planned, to celebrate his achievement. Servants would now be scurrying around, clearing place-settings, storing food, notifying esteemed invitees that there would be no feast. Because he had failed. _But I did _not_ fail,_ Loki again protested. There was no one here to protest to, though. He glanced at his mother. _No,_ he thought, _not her._ He would be the laughingstock of Asgard if he got his mother involved. His father, though… He dreaded it. Father must have been humiliated by the declaration of failure. But surely he would not agree with it. He'd seen what Loki had done, how it was Loki's sword tip that had wound up at Tyr's chest. Father could talk to Tyr. He could make this right. It wasn't always easy having a king for a father, but in this instance it would be helpful.

"I'll have dinner sent up to our dining room, all right?" Frigga asked.

"No, thank you, but I'm not hungry. I need to speak with Father."

"Your father has gone to a meeting. I'll send word that you wish to speak with him. But Loki, you need to eat and drink."

"I'll send for something. Don't worry about me, Mother, I'll be all right."

She gave a bracing smile. "You ask the impossible. I'm your mother, and that will never change, whether you're nine or nineteen or nine hundred. Worrying about you is an unavoidable corollary."

They said nothing for the rest of the ride back. Ensuring his mother would hear, Loki told the servant who took their horses to send up dinner, even specifically requesting pheasant. Like his supposed inability to lift the log, this was all for show, in this case to assuage his mother's concern; he didn't think he would be able to eat anything, even if he'd had the desire.

He bade her a quick goodbye and hurried inside, then ran up the many flights of stairs to his floor. He could feel the burn in his legs by the time he got there, and a long soak in the bath would have felt like bliss, but instead he merely rinsed off, cleaned the handful of cuts Tyr had inflicted, broke a couple of healing stones over them to mend the skin quickly and without scarring, and got into fresh clothing. He slicked his hair back, looked at himself in the mirror, and told himself that everything was fine, that he would talk to his father, and he would work everything out. "I'll show them," he told his reflection. "All of those people who left thinking I'd failed. They saw me best Tyr. They already know the real truth. They _saw_ it. _Father_ saw it." He took a slow deep breath and went out to his antechamber to wait.

He'd just sat down when the door started to open. "Not now, Thor," he said even before his brother's blond head peeked inside.

"You're back!" Thor exclaimed, stepping inside and heading for the chair opposite Loki, because "not now" in Thor-speak apparently meant "Come in, make yourself comfortable."

Loki sprang up and put himself between Thor and the chairs, throwing an arm around his shoulders and trying to push him back to the door. "I mean it, Thor, not now. I'm waiting to speak with Father."

"Oh, all right. But I can stay. Do you want me to stay? I came by earlier. But you weren't back yet."

Loki shook his head. Thor looked a little nervous, or perhaps uncomfortable, and the whole thing felt a little strange, and Loki didn't want to deal with him right now. Father first. Getting things right first. "No. It's between me and Father. I have to do it myself."

Thor nodded and allowed Loki to guide him to the door – Loki was under no illusions that he was indeed being "allowed" to do it, for shoulder-to-shoulder Loki lacked the strength to make Thor go anywhere he didn't want to go.

"Come tell me how it went after," Thor said.

"Yes, yes. Go." And then he was gone, door closed. And Loki realized why the visit had seemed so odd. Thor hadn't touched him once. Not a hand on his arm or his shoulder or the back of his neck. Not a playful punch or kick or swipe. Thor had always been free with physical signs of his affection toward him. The fact that just now he had not done so told Loki that he was embarrassed. _Of course he is. He got all those people to come, and look what happened._ But he'd given a good performance, and once the situation was resolved, Thor and everyone else would forget ever having heard the word "fail." Loki nodded to reassure himself of this against the opposite message some other portion of his brain was insisting upon.

Loki grabbed a book and sat down again, thinking in turn of all the other people who'd been there. Baldur, who looked up to him and had been so excited to go to his Trials. Jolgeir, who _he_ looked up to and who was almost like family. Eir, to whom he could take absolutely any question and receive a serious answer. Uncle Villi and Aunt Jora, and Uncle Ve and Aunt Luta…who'd come from Vanaheim. He groaned. With the crowd he'd forgotten all about his father's family's presence; they always kept a certain distance from Father in public, to avoid attracting attention, as his mother had once explained it. They would have been sitting somewhere unobtrusively, and Loki had never looked for them or noticed them as he'd greeted others. At some point he would have to go see his uncles and aunts, and deal with _that_ failure, too.

/

* * *

/

Two hours later, a knock came at the door. Loki sat up with a start, the open – and forgotten – book on his lap falling to the floor. He left it and went to the door. Mother stood there.

"Your Father's meeting is over now, Loki. He's in his study upstairs."

Loki nodded and searched her face for some clue to what might be awaiting him, but she gave no indication. "All right," he said, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

"How are you, my darling?" she asked as they headed up the stairs together.

"I'll be all right, Mother. Don't worry about me."

"I will always worry about you. The unavoidable corollary, remember?"

"-able corollary," Loki joined in on the words he hadn't exactly heard for the first time that day.

"Yes, I see that you do."

"I know. And thank you, Mother. But really, I'll be fine."

She wrapped her arm around his, and here, in the privacy of the floors where they lived, here he could allow it. An Einherjar opened the golden doors and they passed through; Loki squeezed Frigga's hand and stepped back from her. "Let me do this on my own."

Frigga looked down for a moment. Loki could tell she wanted to stay with him. But in the end, she simply nodded.

Loki gave her an appreciative smile and continued on to his father's study. He knocked, heard the gruff "Come in," and entered.

/

* * *

_In the next chapter, Loki gets his conversation with his father, and we also find out a _bit_ more about what Thor thinks about all this. This story is solely from Loki's POV, so all we'll get of what Thor's thinking is what Thor says and does, and what Loki _thinks_ Thor's thinking._

_Comments/questions/thoughts?_


	5. A King for a Father

_**Trials**_

**Chapter Five: A King for a Father**

"Good evening, Father. Thank you for seeing me."

"Of course, Loki. Sit down."

Loki took a seat across from the bare length of his father's L-shaped desk, and Odin turned fully from the other side of it, where he'd been working. Father was hardly ever _not_ working; Loki remembered that time he'd taken a day off and they'd gone to Vanaheim together, waking up in the morning to his father sitting there in an overstuffed chair with a bound stack of paper spread open across his lap. It was an image that had always stuck with him. "It's about what happened today," Loki said when it seemed his father was waiting for him to speak first.

"Yes?"

Loki hesitated. He hadn't expected to have to explain anything – his father had _been_ there, he'd seen everything. "Well, I…" _Why do I have to get so tongue-tied in front of him?!_ He took a deep breath, thought about the main thing he needed to say, and began again. "Father, you saw how the fight ended. I _bested_ Tyr. But he declared that I had failed. I'm sure he didn't like that I defeated him, but it isn't fair that he punished me for-"

"It isn't fair?" Odin echoed, an eyebrow arching upward.

"Um…no. It isn't. I had my sword to his heart, and he said I _failed_. That's not fair."

"You used magic to blind him. Magic that I remind you, you aren't even supposed to be using, as you are still a youth."

"But Mother-"

"I know what your mother has done, and I do not approve. That aside, I'm quite confident that she did not tell you to use magic in your Trials."

"Well, no, but-"

"You broke the rules, Loki. Magic isn't allowed in the Trials."

"Says who? No one told me that."

"No one should have needed to," Odin said, his frown deepening. "It is obvious. Only adults may study magic – it's dangerous in the hands of one too young to understand what he's doing. To properly control it, to understand when its use is appropriate and when its use is _not_ appropriate. You have not yet developed that level of discernment. Obviously," he added with a tilt of his head.

"But Father, we're encouraged to draw on our strengths and talents, to work unique elements into the battle. _That_ is what I did."

Odin sighed, and Loki thought he detected impatience and frustration on the edges of it. Maybe even anger, but he hoped he was imagining it. "Loki, I don't know what else you want me to say."

Loki could feel himself getting flustered, as he sometimes did with his father these days. That was never a good thing, because it meant he struggled to express himself well. He took a moment to try to force both his breathing and his thoughts to slow and settle. "I was thinking…that if you speak to Tyr, then I'm sure he would reverse his-"

"You wish for me to intervene on your behalf?" Odin asked, sitting back in his chair with an expression Loki could not identify.

"Yes. I'm sure he'll listen to you."

"Because I am king? Because I am your father?"

"Yes," Loki said, nodding, but with a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

"That is the foolishness of youth speaking. It is precisely _because_ I am your father that I _cannot_ intervene."

"Why not?" Loki asked, his words jumping up in pitch under the sting of Odin's words. _Are you ashamed of me?_

"Do you truly wish to be known as a warrior only because your father overruled Tyr? You would have no legitimacy in your claim as a warrior, or even as a man of Asgard. How much worse that you are a prince! Loki, someday you will be a leader among Asgardians. How can you lead a people whose trust you cannot count on? You must understand that the people's ability to respect and trust you would fall into question. What trust would Asgard have in a prince who could not pass his Trials without a whispered word from the king? You would face insult to your honor. How could you speak as a representative of a people who define themselves by their honor and their status as warriors?"

"But what am I to do? If they fail me I'm not a warrior at all!"

"If? They have _already_ failed you. There's nothing to be done about that now. You will have to speak with Sorkvir and Tyr. I assume they will give you the opportunity to undertake the Trials a second time. But the matter must remain in their hands. I cannot be seen to have any involvement, for both of our sakes, but especially for yours, Loki."

"So you won't…you won't do _anything_ to help me?"

"Loki…" Odin sighed, then stood, prompting Loki to stand as well. He came around the desk and put his hands on Loki's shoulders. "I _am_ doing something to help you. I'm staying out of it, and letting you handle it like the man you're trying to prove yourself to be. I can't solve your problems for you, Son. You're going to have to face up to them yourself. Let go of your pride. Apologize to Sorkvir and to Tyr. Ask them, with the respect they deserve, if you can submit yourself to the Trials a second time, or if there's any other solution they can offer."

A thousand things ran through Loki's mind at once – angry retorts, shock, questions, pleas – but none of them came to the forefront clearly enough for him to turn into words, so he just stood there, staring up at Odin. He was actually a half an inch or so taller than his father now, but something about the power of his presence still made him feel like he was looking up into that single bright blue eye.

"Go, Loki. Get some sleep. Eat something if you haven't. You need it after today," he said, putting a hand around Loki's arm and giving it a squeeze. It was as close as his father ever came to the affection Frigga showered upon him, at least since his childhood. "Deal with this first thing in the morning."

Loki worked his jaw. Swallowed. Nodded. Left.

/

* * *

/

Mother was waiting there, in the anteroom just before the golden double doors. Her face was full of sympathy…not hope. _She knew,_ Loki thought immediately. _She knew exactly what he was going to say all along._

"Loki," she said, rising from the sofa she'd been sitting on.

"Leave me be, Mother. Please," he added, conscious that his tone had been rather unkind.

"All right," she said. He could feel her eyes on him as he passed her and opened the door to leave, but she didn't say anything else or attempt to approach him.

He ran down the two flights of stairs, ignoring Thidrek who stood nearby, threw open the door to his chambers, stepped in, closed it, and leaned heavily against it. He thought about Thidrek, one of the Einherjar who ensured his safety. The Einherjar nursemaids – as he and Thor had years ago taken to calling them in private – would cease their protective duties the day he turned twenty, the day he would be declared a man. A _man_. On Asgard, it was virtually synonymous with "warrior." Would he not be declared a man, because he had not been declared a warrior? Would he remain a youth, outside the official line of succession, followed by an Einherjar or two everywhere he went, as though he couldn't take care of himself?

_But I _can._ I _did_. I did everything asked of me and more._

Loki walked away from the door. He could do nothing about any of this right now. The urge within him to grab a sword and prove what kind of warrior he was was strong, but throwing the equivalent of a temper tantrum – basically behaving like Thor – wouldn't help matters. Better to do something practical. Useful. Like taking a real bath.

Loki washed himself thoroughly from the day's exertions, checked that each cut was fully healed, then soaked for a while in the warm water that nicely soothed his muscles but could not entirely relax them. He could have stayed there for hours letting his skin wrinkle – the basin continuously circulated and warmed the water – but before long he got out, deciding he would rather just go to bed. He dried off and pulled on the sleepwear that had been left out for him – a soft gray tunic and pants with bands of green at the hems. He went back out to his bedchamber and stopped short.

"What are you doing on my bed, Thor?"

"Nothing. Just sitting here," Thor said, looking up at Loki with complete – and unfeigned – innocence. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Did you get lost? These are my chambers. What I'm doing here is going to bed. Move over." He leaned over to give Thor an encouraging shove, but he was already scooting over to the other side.

"You said you'd come tell me what happened."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did! You were really going to just sneak back down here without telling me anything?"

"Well…yes," Loki said, settling down under the covers that Thor sat on top of beside him. "I just wanted to get cleaned up and go to bed."

"Not so fast. Come on, you have to tell me what Father said."

"Go ask him yourself."

"Loki, don't be that way. What did he say?"

Lying on his back, Loki glanced up at Thor. His face was a picture of earnestness and openness. Loki couldn't ignore him. He pushed himself up and sat against the headboard, and filled his brother in on what their father had said.

"So you'll talk to Tyr tomorrow then?" Thor asked when Loki had finished.

"I suppose," Loki said with a shrug. "I don't know what choice I have." He looked down at his hands on his lap. "I still can't believe this is actually happening. I think I'm hoping I'll just wake up tomorrow and it will all have been a bad dream."

"Me, too," Thor said, and Loki looked up at him to see him nodding and looking down at his own lap. _It didn't happen to _you_, Thor, it happened to me,_ Loki thought with a twinge of bitterness, but he didn't give voice to the thought.

"I'm tired. I'm going to sleep now."

"All right," Thor said, joining Loki in lifting the covers and sliding down under them.

"What are you doing?"

"Sometimes you ask the dullest questions, Brother. What does it look like I'm doing?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "Fine, if you're truly too lazy to bother with going back to your own chambers," Loki grumbled, turning to his side and putting his back to Thor, who promptly gave him a gentle shove to the shoulder.

"I never went to bed last night. I'm tired."

"Mm-hm," Loki said, and otherwise ignored him. A smile flitted across his lips, though. He was glad Thor was staying. He didn't really want to be alone right now, and even though he was on the cusp of twenty, there remained something comforting in Thor's presence at his side, accustomed to it as he was from infancy. Thor's support meant a lot to him. Loki opened his eyes then, realizing that Thor had never actually voiced his opinion of what had happened. He lay there in silence a while, recalling how Thor had come by earlier but seemed somehow not himself, how he hadn't touched him at all. How he still hadn't, except for that one little shove, lighter than usual.

"Thor?" he finally asked, quietly in case Thor had already drifted into sleep.

"Mm?" Thor mumbled several seconds later, sounding indeed half-asleep.

"Do you think they should have failed me?" Loki listened intently for the response, but from Thor came only silence. Loki told himself that his brother must have already fallen asleep.

/

* * *

_In the next chapter, Loki considers his options...and realizes there may be more than he thought at first..._

_I don't know exactly how long this story will be (not _Beneath_-length or even _Memory Casket_-length), but the next chapter begins to bridge us to what I think of as the "second half" of the story._

_Thanks for your comments, for faves and follows and so forth, hope you are still enjoying this story!_


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